


Their Cries Sound Like A Choir

by telepathy



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Broken Friendship, Crying, Emotional pain, F/M, Friendship, Growing Up Together, Heartbreak, Hurt, Pain, Sadness, coldhearted prince adam, pre-beast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telepathy/pseuds/telepathy
Summary: Adam & Belle grew up together but inevitably grew apart...in the most painful of ways.





	1. Rejection

**Author's Note:**

> *waves*
> 
> Hey BatB gang! How ya been?! Been forever since I've written in this fandom and I've been feeling the vibe again for a while so I scooped up a fic and added more! This is a continuation from my 30 Days of Beauty & The Beast Challenge from last July – The chapter prompt was "Rejection." I copied over that chapter so that's not changed but the new newness is chapter 2! With more on the way...
> 
> Note: While I did list this as AU, it will weave key elements from the film into play because ...Prince gotta Beast it up at some point, right? ;)

They were thick as thieves, closer than siblings really – a friendship resultant from unexpected circumstances. Each of them, a boy and a girl, nurtured adventurous hearts, their souls full up on wanderlust and a longing for _more._

More beyond the hallowed palace halls and fearsome turrets that guarded them – onward past the edge of the forest, going farther than town or the rolling hills that surrounded. They often spoke of running away, of borrowing their favorite lame horse to see how far they could go before being turned back by the armored protectants of his royal line. 

She’s not like him, the girl, not by blood or social status. Belle is property – part of the staff; a servant’s daughter living in the castle alongside the pretigious family of three. It took many years before she understood her place in this pristine fortress and yet neither of them ever seemed to pay any mind to such trivial differences. 

Adam, the boy, would visit her using false pathways behind opulent straightaways that stretched endlessly from one end to the next. He’d sneak into her family’s quarters after nightfall and cunningly snatch his friend away; their adventures typically finding them wrist-deep into the main kitchen’s desserts. Sometimes though, in summer, they’d push the legal boundaries that were meant to keep them apart. 

They’d stroll in tandem, shoulders touching, through the dense forests as he honed his skills in archery and gaming. He’d teach her, too, which was wholly forbidden, and yet neither ever made it into anything other than past times spent together. They enjoyed the solace from hustle and bustle of everyday castle life, favoring one another more than any other occupant. 

But the servant girl was not someone Adam was _supposed_ to know, nor befriend. She was not his equal and his father would scorn the girl whenever a path inadvertently crossed between the two. It was a visceral, feral reaction to a person of lesser stature than he, oftentimes causing weeks to pass before the two were joined once again. 

Adam hated that cruel man for this reason above all others; the Prince could take the punishments and see himself through whippings, bruises and scars, but Belle, Belle was his one, true person. His confidant and the safe place he could hide whenever a future’s worth of responsibilities weighed him down.

He knew he would have drowned if it had not been for her, but as they grew in age, his father had grown in hate. As the Prince was not the Master of the castle yet, there was to be no control or order over what could or could not be done. Both legally as well as ethically. 

The youthful boy was torn apart by what he knew was right and what his father demanded of him. Pushing so eagerly for a once and future Prince who was to be feared by any and all who knew his name. 

After Adam’s mother died, things descended quicker than ever: the heir was hidden from Belle, and most of the staff, for nearly half of every day, his time structured between studies, fencing practice or battle-intensive trainings. There left little to no room for midnight fairytales or the companionship of a girl. Least of all a girl not worthy of his grace and mercy, let alone his time or affection.

He was a young man by then, fifteen and already hardening into a a representative of his father’s bidding. Belle watched the evolution from afar, missing her friend and the adventures they’d take, quietly longing for simpler days. 

By the time he celebrated his sixteenth birthday, which comprised of a five-day gala and a barrage of guests from locations spanning across France, Belle hadn’t shared a word with him in close to a year. 

It was merely impossible to get close to him, no matter how hard she tried those first few months. Eventually, as custom dictated, she was sworn into servitude. Beginning her role as both an overseer to the library as well as general food service, Belle’s heading in life was now solidified. 

A share of these duties found Belle more than happy to undertake; part of her even believed that Adam was the inspiration behind this position in the library. She’d never know unless he said so, and since he never said anything to her at all these days, she accepted her role and did the best she could.

By their seventeenth year, Adam’s father had slowly begun to wither under an illness no one could name. Belle had brought him rations right up until the night he passed; Adam had been there in the room, but nary he said a single word to the girl sat opposite him. Had not even spared a glance in her direction.

Belle understood there in that death-scented room that she no longer existed to the Prince – she was just…a servant and nothing more. A means to an end.

It broke her heart, watching as their past floated away and fled on the tides of judgement and hate – to watch _her_ Adam turned into something she knew he was not. She _knew_ he was good, had felt the kindness and gentleness of that soul on many occasions. Recalled so vividly an intellectual, adventurous boy who would hold her hand in fields of yellow and green as they ran until their legs ached. 

_This_ was not that Adam.

It pained her to see him turned into a flouncing libertine – a cruel man who cared not for the welfare of his people but for the welfare of his wealth. His celebrations were extravagant, with high societies adorned in devilishly tempting costumes and painted faces meant to evoke fear and fright. 

He was a stranger and she, a forgotten bystander to a royal’s fury and the preoccupation of social classes, was left to bare witness. 

Until she didn’t. 

Belle decided on a cold winter’s eve to try, one final time, to help her friend. By her courage, perhaps he might see how far he’s fallen from the days when there were no separations, no better-than’s. 

She stood outside of the West Wing’s grandiose entranceway, his quarters sounding empty and still. Belle knew he was in there, for she had watched him closely that night, tracking his movements to ensure he’d be alone when it came time. 

Warring over whether or not to knock – either were wholly inappropriate given who she seemingly was to him – Belle seized, frozen by indecision. 

The door eventually opened in midmorning and Adam stood on the other side, staring at Belle without a hint of emotion. 

“We were once friends, you and I. Don’t you remember? We’d ride the hobbled steed as far as we were able to, which was typically to the edge of the grounds. O-or taste every sweet Cuisiner would try to hide. Except for the one or two left out purposely, because he knew we’d come. Adam, my Prince, my fri–“ 

“Is there something you need? Otherwise I suggest you return from whence you came, lest you see yourself without a contract here.” 

Belle’s bottom lip quivered and for an instant, she thought she saw Adam’s eyes flounder. His words were a cutting betrayal, a rejection unlike anything she’d ever thought him capable of. 

“No, _Master._ Goodnight.” 

She lets go of him as her hand slips from the golden knob on the opposite door. She’d never forget this night or how he had made her feel less than a person. Lesser than even his father had. 

He was a monster, a beast.


	2. The Master & The Wilting Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle reacts, Adam has cruel demands and everything seems utterly hopeless..

Belle does not flee in a hasty manner, no – she simply walks away. Feet steady, a slow pace, a purposeful gait. She does not turn around, does not dare to glance back. Her breathing is even, her eyes open; the servant girl is seeing everything as it is, but more so, everything as it always has been. 

Adam has broken her but she will not allow him to know this; she’s already caught in a fight against hollow bones and droplets of decaying blood – the bits and pieces of all that she is are shattering within but, _no_. Belle will make certain that he is not privilege to this implosion. That he is to never know the depths of her despair. 

Onward she treks, one thread-bare boot in front of the other, rolled fists at her sides, focus set on the staircase ahead. 

“Belle?” 

She stops; a fury burns through and consumes her at just how quickly she came to a halt at the sound of her name on his lips, but still, she does not face him. 

“Yes, Master?” 

“As you know, in a fortnight there will be a gala celebrating Midwinter. You are to be on the staff for the duration.” 

Belle attempts to swallow the egg-sized lump of emotion that’s built a home in the rear of her throat. Attempts and fails miserably. 

“My duty schedule lists me as a part of the wait staff for that event, your Majesty.” 

The Prince emits a sound akin to an annoyed grumble, or perhaps it was more of a chuff? Either way, he’s dismissive and unusually intolerant to her assertive reply. 

“Turn your face to me, handmaiden.” 

Adam’s words are biting, the last especially so, but Belle acquiesces as she has no other options available. She refuses to run out of pride and dignity and is not to disobey a direct order from her charge. This job – this castle and every soul she works and lives alongside, is all that’s left and she does well to remember that here in this hellish hallway. 

Belle shifts her tense body and lifts a pair of dark eyes to meet his frozen, wintry gaze. 

“Yes, Mon Prince?” 

“You will not be on the wait staff. Rather, you will report to Madame De Garderobe to ensure that every patron – each affluent female guest, that is – is properly attended to in both dressings and face paint. You will handle their needs, both personal and otherwise and remain present throughout the celebrations. Readily accessible at all times.” 

The servant girl inhales slowly, achingly, nostrils expanding – tells to the inner turmoil tearing her asunder; she catches herself and pinches the rear side of her thigh in the hopes of regaining a measure of control. Anything is better than this – anything to take away from the torment he’s forcing her to endure. Such needless, unnecessary hurt. 

“Yes, Master.” 

She says nothing more, as the moment loses its need for proper dialogue. The language of her limbs and noticeably rigid stance speak of its own disbelief; every cell trapped inside the tomb of her person longs for escape, longs to be set free of this heartache. 

“Oh and one last thing… Around the clock accessibility is mandatory. You are hereby ordered to be in attendance throughout the night. Once the gala concludes, should any of my personal guests require your assistance, you are mandated to serve them.” 

Belle’s eyes close for the span of a single second but it’s _just_ enough. He sees through and behind the facade and she knows. Her anguish has been exposed and there is no going back. No way to hide what’s been shamefully revealed.

“Yes, Master Lemaître.” 

Adam smirks and folds his hands at the small of his spine. 

“You understand what it is that’s required of you, correct?”

In three long steps Adam is stood before the girl and for a moment Belle is surprised at how little ground she gained when attempting leaving earlier. Only three steps? Was that truly all…?

There was little time to reflect beyond the initial shock as he wrapped his hand around her jaw, forcibly guiding her eyes to his own. 

The Prince leaned down after, his breath washing over like the ash clouds from an angered volcano. The air was feverish against her icy skin, but she dare not recoil. 

His thumb ran a line across her chin before, finally, whispered words slipped from him, dripping like blood from a felled raven: “You understand that whomever is invited into my bedchamber that evening will be granted your full and utmost attention, no matter the request. Is this understood, handmaiden?” 

Belle’s eyes closed, and try as she might, a tear escaped through the failing cracks of her eyelids. She cursed the droplet, cursed its weakness and her own, but managed to nod in a solemn silence. A nod that spoke to resignation. 

“Say you understand. Say it out loud, little girl.” 

Belle opened her sight to find his leering, seeking more pain within. There was even a touch of hope in those frozen orbs that this want, this desire for cruelty, was to be his and his alone. To inflict, to crush and break. 

But _why_ , Belle couldn’t quite deduce. Yet for every uncertainty that stretched so perilously far ahead, there was one she had no need to question: There are no answers here tonight. No insight or hope to learn why, why now, why this influx of unbridled malice and hatred toward her. 

In an unsuspecting move, Belle straightened her spine, reached up and grabbed his wrist; sucking in a lungful of air, “I understand, your Majesty. I shall provide for any and all needs, in the event that I am called upon to do as such.” 

He grimaced at the surge of strength and released his hold on her face at once, thus releasing her grasp of him. “Now, go. You’re presence here has proven to be an enjoyable show of insubordination but I’ve grown weary from it. Return from whence you came.” 

Belle retracted herself from the stale, forbidden heir, and stood there, immovable, silent, for a brief period of time. Just staring at him, looking on at the monster he had feared all his life. Adam tilted his head at that, a curious sort of gesture, but then sighed as a child might – annoyed, frustrated – exasperated. 

“If you attempt to speak another word to me or remain in my view a breadth longer, I will sever your contract and ruin your chance of ever working in the whole of France. Heed my words, peasant.” 

Fear washed through her – true, overwhelming fear. Belle bowed and then spun away by the heels of her shaken feet. She flew on, like a bird in the night fleeing the jaws of a feral carnivore. Free, and yet not at all, as it were. But far from his hardened heart and punishing antics. 

As she descended the castle staircases and traversed the stone pathways lit by dying embers of golden candlelight, there was only one thought racing through her mind: 

Adam truly was lost. To her, to the province. But most of all, to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. Just, ouch, Adam.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope all you lovelies have been doing wonderfully these last pile of months! Let me know your thoughts down below – I'm eager, as it's been a loooong time! 
> 
> x


End file.
